A Bewildering Text

*
Nursing a psychosomatic headache caused by trying
to decipher a bewildering text about soccer about which
I know NOTHING, nothing, less than nothing – except
that a lot of men tippy-toe, tippy-tippy toe, around a ball
using dainty steps to make a ballerina envious -

All sentences ending in question marks although written
as statements, the author insinuating he has mysterious
knowledge regarding the game of soccer that enables him
to make any team win; this is the best way to drive anyone
insane, I go mad with wondering what he could mean

Maybe an illegal breakfast is in order, my red cheeks are
indicative of abortive mental absorption in my impossible
task, believing Six Impossible Things before breakfast is
one thing, but accomplishing a true translation of a sense-
less, Sphinx-like text is a completely impossible deed

I cannot accomplish it, the pain of contracting muscles
in my head tells me I am in a mental dead-end, I might
as well throw in the towel and find food for my mouth
since food for thought there is none…
*